Tears Of Betrayal I: Whispers in the Dark
by jinxedlies
Summary: Harry's done what he what he was told to do...but when the wizarding world turns on him for a crime he did not commit, he finds himself in Azkaban. He knows the truth, but what will happen if no one believes him?


_Terribly sorry to those who was hoping this was the third in the series. I'm just reuploading this thing because I was tired of seeing this certain mistake several times. This is exactly the same, except for a different last line and a few spelling checks. Thanks to those who reviewed._

**Tears of Betrayal I: Whispers in the Dark**

Harry felt it...he could feel hate haunting betrayal. He could feel the way his heart was ripped in two by his unbelieving friends. He could feel their intense hatred. All the friendship they'd worked years to build was gone like that, by one simple accident. The loyalty, the trust he'd forced himself to build up higher for both him and his friends. He took risks to save them and in return they helped him get through life. He still remembered all those years when his friends helped him achieve things he never thought possible. They were so kind, so understanding at that time. He shared everything with them. The abuse the Dursley's made him face early in life, the torture of when _he_ was near. They had always seemed so sympathetic, so forgiving. They loved him because of who he truly was, not because of a silly name or a Prophecy. They were there for him and he was there for them. It was so simple as they worked their way up through school together, sticking by each other through thick and thin. All those time when he'd been in mortal danger they helped him get past it and move on with his lousy life. They healed him where nurses couldn't. When they were around, he was complete. Because they were his friends. And friends stick by each other to the very end. He grew up knowing that, never truly knowing that when he was older they would betray him so horribly. He really, truly though of them as his friends, his first ones and also, it seemed, like his last. A betrayal leaves a scar forever, and it never heals, no matter what spell or enchantment you placed upon it. You could hide it beneath spells, but the pain would never end.

It was such a horrible day that day too, but he'd done everything they'd asked him to. He'd rid the world of a horrible evil and yet, nothing was what he expected. Harry was still his thin sixteen, seventeen in two weeks, year old self as he looked around him at the battlefield where both Light and Dark were dead, forever gone from the world. It hurt Harry to see so many die for a cause like this; he'd wanted to avoid as much death as possible, but now, as he looked at the faces of the dead surrounding him, he saw what a fool he was for thinking such thoughts. When their was Voldemort, there was death a destruction for all involved. Voldemort, with his faithful team of Eaters by his side, were so powerful in so many ways...And Harry had still managed to stop him, some way. He couldn't remember that battle much himself, though it couldn't have ended more than a day ago. Now, Harry roamed the dead, trying not to break down as he saw the familiar faces and those who were obviously much too young to be included. _They sneaked here to try to help and this happens. _

It had been so so long ago...the years had passed like whirlwinds. But he knew how long. He knew exactly how long the betrayal had been able to sink in. He knew that he could no longer trust so many that he once loved as parents, even if they hadn't even been his parents. He remembered the betrayal, he'd felt when people he thought of as if they were his brother and sister, scorned him with evil words. He didn't talk to them when they said those vile things to him. He was innocent. Yet the betrayal still sunk deep.

Yes, it had been he who got rid of Voldemort, just as he'd been trained to all those years on Hogwarts. Everyone knew it. It wasn't something the press tried to hide that first day. He had been hailed high and low. Everyone wanted to see him, to thank him. But it all changed...it changed so fast. He had been longing release from the crowds that pushed up against him asking him how he managed it...How he finally fulfilled the Prophecy. He'd escaped, though he couldn't remember how and tried to get farther away through Knockturn Alley in Diagon Alley when he'd been ambushed.

Harry had known that some Death Eaters were still running loose, waiting to be round up by Ministry Officials, but like everything else, true numbers had been kept a secret. The true numbers, Harry had to guess as he began to battle several at a time in a hopeless game of winning or loosing, were around fifty or sixty. He hadn't known that there were that many followers to begin with. Harry began to question the battle he'd been in the days before. It had been easy, almost too easy to defeat most of the Death Eaters and then Voldemort. Harry had just thought Voldemort had made a slip up, but what if...?

Before Harry could continue his thoughts, a _stupify_ managed to get past his shield, hitting him painfully over the heart. As he lay there gasping, he heard another spell, then felt hair being ripped from his head. He blacked out, unable to stand the pain of several more spells that came his way.

Harry's first emotion when he woke up at the Ministry was gratitude and immense relief. He'd been so sure that those Death Eaters wanted to kill him, not just battle him for some pointless reason or another. Then his eyes cleared a bit and he saw he was chained to a chair. Looking up, he noticed he was in the same position he'd been in just before his fifth year had started, only this time the chains were activated and wound around his wrists and ankles.

What happened after that pained Harry every time he dared to think about it. His friends all testified against him. At first he wasn't exactly sure what they were accusing him of, until he started to put the pieces together. The scream of outrage were still clear in his mind as his best friends and everyone he'd ever trusted with his secrets came forward, saying all they could of how it was he who had murdered the Dursley's then came to the Burrow, a place he'd always been welcomed at, and proceeded to torture then kill Arthur and Percival Weasley. The words took awhile to sink in, but he knew of his innocence so he begged.

"It wasn't me!" He'd told them, demanding them to listen. "I've been your best friend since first year Ron! I loved him like a father! I couldn't kill him! You know I couldn't hurt anyone like that! Ron, I'm not evil!" But the red haired boy just snarled back and launched into the tales Harry had told them about the Dursley's. When the verdict came forward, Harry tried to pull his way away from the bonds, struggling to speak. "Veritaserum." He begged, "Use Veritaserum."

But it had been too late. The verdict had been made. Harry James Potter was to serve a full lifetime sentence at Azkaban for every wizard murder he'd committed and half terms for every muggle, totaling a grand amount of three and a half lifetimes at Azkaban. Even as he was led out of the room by the terrible Dementors, who'd returned to their ranks when Voldemort had fallen, he yelled out his innocence, hoping someone would feel guilty.

But now, as Harry awoke to another day of his life within the prison most went mad in, he knew it would be just another day. He stood in the small four by four room, facing a wall with hundred of little marks, dug deep into the wall. He focused on a spot where the next mark should go and slowly another line added itself to the rest of them. Harry did a mental tally. Today was the 3,638 day he'd been living here, meaning there was only about two weeks until it marked his ten year anniversary of being admitted to Azkaban.

Most people thought of his as insane and he liked it that way. In fact, it was only known because he was the one who'd set it up. He could still remember that day marking the first year he'd been in the dump, being served only clear soup. his thin body was even thinner than usual and he'd known it was the day that the ever-so-helpful Minister was to be checking in on him to determine his mental status to be put on record. As the minister had come closer to his cell, Harry curled himself up in the corner, muttering so only the Minister could hear. "Mum, yeah, Today I went to the park with my friends, only they weren't there and it was dark...so dark..." Harry kept rambling on, pretending to talk to his parents about his days. Harry watched as the Minister walked away, hand shaking slightly as he wrote down two words. _Mentally Insecure._

The boy who was once know to the world as the Boy-Who-Lived, was now credited to be the Boy-Who-Was-Insane.

But what the world didn't know was that the Boy-Who-Lived was also a lot more now. In Azkaban, he wasn't stupid. He hadn't allowed the Dementors to take away his will to live. He didn't want to become one of those bloody fools who were truly mental, unable to think, only stutter over words like Quirell. No, The Boy Who Lived wasn't going to die broken and battered. If he was going to die in a place like Azkaban, he wanted to die strong with powers they would never know about. With a will he'd never known about, he started to teach himself.

First, to save himself from becoming truly insane, he tried his hardest to become an Animagus. It was nearly impossible without certain potions that gave you the idea what you were or even if you had the potential. There were very few wizards and witches who'd ever managed to become a skilled Animagus without these potions, and Harry was one of those very few. Of course, he was startled to find that he didn't have the ordinary one animagus form, but two instead. His first was a white wolf, pure white, and he loved this form as it had the effect of a Patronus. The Dementors seemed to shy away from it and go torment other prisoners with their worst nightmares. He firmly believed that they deserved it more than him...after all most of them had actually committed the crimes they were in here for. his second form was that of a black hawk. He'd never been able to fully transform into that figure, because of the lack of room the cell contained, and a hawk needed room to fly. In Azkaban, there wasn't much air room.

Becoming an Animagus proved to be easy work as he moved onto his next personal lessons. Occlumency was a magical skill he'd hated since his fifth year when Snape tried, and failed, to teach him the special magic he'd needed at the time to survive. But Harry had been sure that there was plenty of time on his hands to learn now. After all, what else was there to do. Being an Occlumens could prove to be useful in the future, somehow. He'd long since given up any hope that his innocence would be proved. It seemed as though they'd turned their backs on the person who'd saved their petty world.

Over the course of two and a half years he was slowly able to put up barriers in his mind. No longer would people be able to read him like an open book. No longer would he have to worry about Albus Percival Dumbledore coming to Azkaban to find that the boy proved to be insane had only made that small fact up. Harry didn't even know about his next magical trait until it sneaked up upon him on a day he'd tired himself out trying to learn Legilimency. He'd woken up feeling somewhat different, so he pulled himself out of his pathetic excuse of a bed and looked at himself in a piece of a mirror that had been from a past criminal. He gasped as he saw himself, but he was different. Her nose was slightly different. How it was different, he didn't know. "Change back to normal, change back to normal!" He whispered to himself and, to his surprise, it did.

Harry held off his Legilimency lessons as began to practice his new skill at changing his apperance without the need of a spell. He knew what it waste, though, but it seemed unbelievable. Metamorphmagus's were suppose to be rare. And he knew that you were suppose to be born with the talent. How did he just find about it then, if that was the case? Then Harry remembered how Dumbledore had told him that he'd restrained much of Harry's magic at a young age so it wouldn't kill him. This just had to have been held back longer than everything else. Harry hissed at Dumbledore's stupidity.

Eventually, Harry took back up the responsibility to become a Legilmens. He knew he was becoming more and more powerful by the day and he could hardly care. What he really needed was things to do and since he was already becoming skilled in Legilimency, he was running out of things to do by his ninth year of being in the dreaded prison. Soon, he mastered becoming a full fledged Legilmens and sat sulking on his small cot. He'd figured out almost every branch of severe magic within ten years. He was nearing twenty-seven and still in his youth, but soon he knew he would fall into true insanity unless he found something. He'd always been weak next to a Dementor because of al the things he'd witnessed and done just to help the world win a war. A war he should never have allowed himself to be dragged into in the first place.

As Harry lay in bed two weeks before his tenth year at Azkaban he couldn't help but wonder what everyone would think of him now. What would they think if they knew he was an unregistered Animagus, Parselmouth, Occlumen, Legilimen, and Metamorphmagus. He was five of the most powerful things in wizards history. Of course, everyone knew of him being a Parselmouth--it was one of the facts that had helped get him the sentence of three and a half lifetimes in Azkaban. He snickered as he remembered how Tonks had once been so proud that she was the only current Metamorphmagus. At that very moment, Harry had an idea. It was so risky, with the penalty of the Dementors Kiss, but anything was better than sitting in an empty cell for the rest of his life. The rest of the night he plotted and thanked his Godfather in his head for thinking of the idea first and caring enough to pass it on to his Godson.

And so, Harry James Potter started to lay out his plans mentally for the big tenth anniversary breakout of the insane criminal named Potter. He could already see their faces when they realized he was gone, but they would never guess the obvious. He would do it exactly the same way Sirius did it.

He was going to escape Azkaban, or die trying.

Since his plan was already as flawless as an escape plan could be, Harry set about doing physical activities. His mind was sharp with knowledge, but his body was not as toned as he would wish it to be. His cell wasn't going o do much in the way of running so Harry began to make up exercises designed personal to fit his limited space. It wasn't nearly as hard as it could have been. He had more time than most to work out. Prison made him act odd sometimes.

A couple of weeks later, Harry was in his cell, preparing for what had to be done before he lost his mind. The bars of the door were spaced slightly farther apart than the rest of the bars, so he figured this had to be the best place to get out. Harry did a quick run-over of his plan, noting everything again and again before finally clearing his mind of everything else and only focusing on white. Everything white, except for the black lightning bolt scar located on the top of his front right paw. Harry felt the changes right away. He fell on all fours nearly instantly, his back legs twisting in another direction and shortened slightly. His arms sprouted fur. He knew was the only one who could track exactly what his body was doing. To everyone else's eyes, the change would have looked instantaneous.

Harry's green wolf eyes scanned the bars in front of him. He knew that there was a flaw everywhere. Somewhere in this door, the bars would be slightly off just enough that the slim body would be able to slip through. Aha, yes. He found it near the magic enforced wall, but the wolf in him couldn't care at all. It didn't like being trapped, Inside it felt weak. It wanted out. And out it would go. The magic walls hadn't been designed to hold in an Animagus's. Harry knew there were specials cells for them. He was glad he hadn't been one before he'd been sentenced.

He trotted slowly down the hall, the white pointed ears able to hear every footstep and feel every chilling presence before it got near enough to do any harm. Harry kept the wolf in the shadows, though he knew it wouldn't be any good if Aurors came by. In a dark place like Azkaban, a slightly weary looking white wolf would catch their eyes in a heartbeat. Harry counted on the wolf's ear to avoid the Aurors.

Harry felt the chilling presence and he mentally cursed himself. He'd started to get slightly cocky when there appeared to be no Dementors or Aurors patrolling this passageway. Once more, he was thankful for his white form. Harry closed the wolf's eyes and focused on his magic. He made it expand, which made the body glow slightly. Before his concentration broke, he ran towards the Dementor. Thanks to it's Patronus behavior, the Dementor moved on, sad that it was cheated of a meal.

The prison was large and it took Harry several minutes to exit the large building. He knew for a fact that there wasn't a single spot on this entire island not protected by an Anti-Apparation ward, so he moved to the far side and changed fully into the black hawk for the first time. He stayed low to the water as he escaped the island he never wanted to see again.

And thus, Harry James Potter ceased to exist.


End file.
